Young Warriors (Wine of the Gods Book 10) Page 3

  The young bloods decided that Lord was just a courtesy title for Xen and tended to sneer at his lack of worldly experience. As defined by them. Which mostly meant living in the city and knowing where the best restaurants and brothels were to be found. Garit didn't actually know about the brothels apart from gossip, and copied Xen's complete indifference. And studied his cousin carefully. By the end of the training period he rather thought he was starting to understand the amusement Xen felt at the Lords' emphasis on birth and breeding, and perhaps even share it.

  It doesn't matter that my father is the King, that my Uncle is the Spear. What matters is what I can do, how I feel and react. Who I am, not what I am. Why didn't I ever see that before?

  He even found himself talking to Clowny more. At least I don't act like she's answering me! According to Xen, Pyrite complained about having to wear a saddle and hackamore all the time, but wasn't about to leave him.

  "You make that horse sound like your wife." Dominic had grunted, once overhearing that.

  Xen had just laughed.

  A month before the end of the year, they were split into four groups and received their first assignments.

  Garit was headed for Farofo, and the border with Auralia.

  They all compared assignments. He'd be with Xen, Asti and Dominic. The sarcastic Rally, and the barely known Lord Keith Rivolti, Lord Baylor Treham, Lord Onray Eckerman, Lord Lester Gannis, and Lord Philip Kemper.

  Half good, half bad.

  ***

  Xen ducked the invitations to various celebrations.

  "I'll be seeing my great-grandfather before I leave town," he told them.

  True, but incomplete. He really had no interest in the brothels the others were talking about. When he'd hit sixteen, he'd decided to let puberty happen, but as soon as his voice started changing half the witches in Ash had started salivating. He'd shut the hormones back down as soon as his voice settled, and decided that a year or so away from home would be a really good idea. Both of his parents concurred. So even though he was pretty tall, and shaving, and his voice was deeper, he was back to being Not Interested. It had been an interesting year, though. Lots of urges to think about, because he was sure going to need to control them later. His eighteenth birthday had passed unnoticed somewhere in the bustle of the last months. Another four years, to be sure his brain development was compatible with wizardry, then he was going to have to let the hormones loose. There were other stages of advancement for wizards that required them.

  So he hustled around the Palace complex in the chilly afternoon to the separate mansion of the King's brother. He wasn't the least bit surprised to find Garit there before him.

  "You got completely through training without mentioning that you were a cousin." Garit thumped his shoulder. "Three months ago was the first I'd ever heard of Uncle Rufi having a great grandson. I mean, I've heard about some daughters and granddaughters but they were all too old to be interesting. So I was surprised when Rufi asked me to keep an eye on you. 'Oh, no, a country bumpkin with delusions of grandeur,' said I, cringing at the very thought of having to show this unknown relative the ropes. I figured you'd be calling yourself a prince. But you never said a thing, and everyone figures you're some commoner, or at best some minor Lord's byblow."

  "I am, so to speak. My parents certainly aren't legally married. Witches do not obligate themselves in that fashion."

  "I never did understand why. And witches? Real witches?"

  Rufi chuckled. "Come now Garit, did you think I was making up all those stories?"

  "Err, actually, yes, sir."

  The old man grinned. "I may have exaggerated, a bit. I get up to Ash as often as possible. Hmm, which isn't very often. Haven't seen Happy in years. I really do have three witch daughters, six granddaughters, four great-granddaughters and one great-grandson."

  "So far." Xen said. "Nobody has admitted to quitting yet."

  Garit seemed delighted by this unexpected explosion of relatives. "So, are you . . . um, men are mages? Or wizards? Hang on a minute . . . The boy with the . . . Oh, no!" He started laughing.

  The Great Grand grinned.

  Xen eyed the old man. "Umm, I'm a wizard, sort of. Just starting really." Until I lose my virginity and etc. Until I learn more control. And more about stuff other than biology and genetics.

  Garit snickered. "So . . . is there, like, a wizard's school or something?"

  Xen snorted. "Yes, the Sheep Man keeps trying to get some sort of organized lessons going, but everyone lives all over the place and always seems to be busy doing other things. So far he just sort of manages to round people up for a week now and then."

  A good time was had over dinner, with Garit egging Xen into showing a few small magics, juggling lights and forming a physical shield for Garit to bounce silverware off of.

  "Anyone can do magic, they just can't get much power behind it. Thank god, or all those charms girls throw around would be a real hazard, instead of a minor flash. Wizards, witches and mages can tap outside power and get some real force into their spells, but it's all the same charms and wards and hexes."

  "So, when I mutter 'Ladies Day, Ladies Day, Ladies, please! Run Away!' It works?"

  "Maybe just a bit." Xen grinned. "I hadn't heard that one, I'll have to try it."

  He bid the Great Grand farewell late that night, and with Garit as a pass, walked back across the Palace grounds to the training barracks.

  The next morning they all roused early, packed correctly and departed promptly.

  Chapter Two

  Late Fall 1387

  Havwee, Desert Valley Province, Section Six

  The corridor was new, and not universally popular. It took them from icy Karista to balmy sunshine in Havwee with a single step.

  As they gawped, an officer ordered them to clear the way. He tried for harshness, but the sympathy showed through.

  "That was amazing." Asti nudged his horse forward, looking back at the corridor. "What happens if people are going both directions?"

  "It feels nasty, and you want to puke, when you step out the other side." The gruff officer answered. "We always look first and step after."

  Xen looked around in interest. His grandparents had told him some pretty wild stories about rescuing Uncle Havi from the fires of Ba'al when he was about one year of age. The Imperial Post in town was quite a bit larger than the usual, owing to that incident and the unapproved strength of the Church of Ba'al's troops. The sergeant on duty sent their horses off with a quartet of privates, assigned them beds and gave them suggestions about where to go in town for various entertainments.

  Xen strolled the streets and admired the different style of architecture the lack of heavy snow allowed. In the evening, eating with the other officers, they garnered all the available gossip about Farofo they could, on short notice.

  The others went out again, but Xen was long abed when the rest of the group staggered in.

  "Just stop calling me Prince, and everything will be fine." Garit was snarling. "For the next two years I'm Lieutenant Negue. Remember that. I don't need a pack of whores chasing me nor pimps trying to blackmail me."

  Poor Garit. As the fourth son of the king, with a pair of nephews, he was well out of the line of succession. That didn't stop idiots from going overboard about the title 'prince'. Especially noblewomen raised to track down and grab every opportunity to advance themselves socially or financially. A man who could put 'Princess' in front of a woman's name was irresistible. Then there was his ransom value, and his value as a political bargaining chip. Two years of being treated like a normal human being must seem like paradise. If these twits would allow it.

  Xen ignored them all and went back to sleep. One of the handicaps of having a wizard gene, even an oddly cobbled together one like his, was that one tended to not have a lot of energy during the long winter nights. He really liked himself, didn't want to change a thing. But sometimes he wished his father hadn't had a half asleep, half dreaming fit of instinctive
magic while he was being conceived. Being unique meant never knowing for sure what you ought to do. If he'd been all wizard, he wouldn't have allowed puberty for at least another four years. Being something else had made him more vulnerable to teasing about his high voice, hence the on-and-off puberty. Hopefully the year with hormones hadn't interfered with his brain growth. He just didn't know. But it had shut up the teasing, and was making his life much easier with this group.

  They got on the road early. It was a ten day ride to Farofo. General Rufi didn't like the idea of corridors that could bring an Auralian army to Karista in a day, and so far had managed to persuade the Council of the same.

  Rally had concentrated on picking up information about the things of importance to him. "Everyone goes over the border, the brothels are incredible." And talked about the mythical delights the whole trip.

  "Incredible dancers, courtesans trained in every way to please a man." Rally was seventeen.

  Lord Asti Througus grunted. He was the oldest of the bunch at twenty-three.

  "Probably won't even go look, eh?" Lord Dominic tended toward aggressiveness, probably over-compensating for rumors that he wasn’t his father’s son. He was just a few days older than Xen.

  "The rumors are that Colonel Ginner keeps his young officers too busy to get into trouble on their own." Xen said.

  Lord Keith Rivolte sniffed. But then he too had a lot to prove. If he acquitted himself well, he might inherit the lands and title lost when his grandfather revolted against the King.

  Altogether, they were a good group of young men, a bit arrogant and quick to take offence, but with plenty of promise. Xen smiled a bit wryly to catch himself evaluating others, at his current station in life.

  It was ten days to Farofo, they slept under the stars most nights, and made the regional fort in the late afternoon.

  Colonel Ginner eyed them skeptically. "You can't be any worse than the last batch, although I shouldn't tempt fate saying such a thing. Captain Illen will assign you where needed."

  "The problem with short timers like you lot, is that you'll be gone as soon as we get you trained. We don't want you in an actual command slot. You will thus all be assistants to career officers." Captain Illen cast a beady eye across them. "In the Army, you are junior officers, not Lords of any sort. You try to get all snotty and arrogant to a superior officer, you will regret it. A career Lieutenant who gave his oath the day before you did, is your superior, and is to be treated with respect.

  "We have three centuries of Horse, three of Foot. A century of the best bowmen in the World. Quartermaster. Home Garrison Maintenance. A dozen other possibilities." He picked up a hat. "This contains the names of every officer on base except Colonel Ginner. You will pick a name, and that officer will be your direct commander for the next six months."

  He walked through them, letting each man pick a folded slip of paper. He picked up a tablet and wrote the results and told them each where to find their new commanders. Xen found himself hunting down Lieutenant Bascom. The officer in question was in charge of field logistics for the patrols of the rough land to the east of Farofo.

  The twenty-eight year old Lieutenant grinned wickedly. "I hope you like mules."

  "More respect for their toughness than actual liking, sir."

  "Ah. I see you've actually worked with them. Excellent."

  But he really enjoyed the long trips into the rough wild lands to restock the Army patrol's wide flung camps. His ability to get a mule to do almost anything, and come home in good condition earned the respect of the other muleteers. Militarily, a pack of bandits looked them over once from a safe distance, but decided to try their luck elsewhere. The head muleteer mentioned them to the patrol they were supplying, who were delighted at any hint of action.

  ***

  Garit was a bit taken aback to find himself the greenest officer in the ranks of the archers. He heard Lester, somewhere behind him, grumbling about infantry, and straightened his shoulders in resolution. I am not a spoiled brat. I will learn all about this. He eyed the squad he'd been assigned. They looked resigned—at best. He switched his gaze to the sergeant. "So. I know squat about organized archery. Captain Efran said we have target practice today, so lead off to the . . . is it called a range? And you can start breaking me in while practicing."

  "Yes, sir!" With a snappy salute, but also with something that might have been a glimmer of hope in the man's expression.

  He wound up being treated like a raw recruit. A raw recruit who'd just spent three months building up the wrong muscles. Neither his range nor aim was up to par.

  The sergeant cleared his throat. "We 'casionly find oursells in unusly tight quarters. Should tat happen while yer here, we'll be glad t'have you fighting along wit us."

  "Thank you, Sergeant. Very diplomatic of you."

  The next day they jogged off to a nearby hill fort and Garit got a first hand look at the Old South Road. Old indeed. And worn.

  "Un . . General Rufi claims the gods made these old roads before the dark ages. Or according to the new history, before the comet fell."

  Sergeant Allcott eyed the stone. "Well, I 'spose. Certainly ain't mad outta paving stones. An futher east, s'all broke up, and moved around. Makes me queasy t'tink of t'ground moven like tat."

  "Huh. I'd like to see it. Must have been bigger earthquakes than we get nowadays."

  "Not t'day." The Sergeant jerked his chin at a steep hill. "Tat's as fer as we're goin' t'day. Give us a coupla months and we'll have you way out to t'east."

  The so-called hill forts were barely large enough for the squad's tents, and the "wall" was a chest high dry stone fence. Probably enough to end a charge up the hill. Assuming any bandits foolish enough to send horses up the rocky angular slope. There were a dozen "forts" strung out along the Old South Road between Farofo and the border with Verona. They weren't manned constantly, just often enough to, in theory, keep the bandits wary, and away.

  The first thing they did was search for snakes. Garit kept a careful distance, and was low man in the informal contest both for most snakes and largest.

  "I heard they tried some stone buildings, once. The rattlers really 'preciated the shade." The sergeant looked around and nodded his satisfaction with the snake removal status.

  The snakes were not too bad, grilled over an open fire. There were certainly enough of them to feed the squad.

  They stayed a week, with no sign of bandits to disturb the occasional passage of groups of wagons.

  Then back to Farofo for a week, then out further . . .

  ***

  Xen swapped grins with Garit as he unloaded a mule. There was no room for the critters inside the badly misnamed "fort." This particular little fortification looked out over the intersection of the Old South Road and a small wagon track that branched off to the south, winding out of sight around a mesa.

  "So, you enjoying these little . . . camps?" Xen handed a sack of oats over a low spot in the rock wall.

  Garit snickered. "Probably more than you're enjoying keeping Pyrite down to a loaded mule's speed."

  That got laughs from the other muleteers. Xen grinned. "Oh yeah. Pyrite gets rude about it—but only until we leave the road." Xen eyed the cliffs, baking in the sun, and nodded at the wagon track snaking away to the south. "Do people actually live down there?"

  "Miners. They pull a fair amount of gold out of the ground around here."

  "Heh. I'll bet it makes soldiering look easy."

  Garit nodded his agreement and grabbed a sack of beans. "So, are you as bad with mules as I am with a bow?"

  Sergeant Allcott laughed. "Yer not bad. Yer just not up t'standard yet. Now iffn we could kepp yer fer a year, we'd haf yer up t'snuff."

  Xen grinned. "And I now know why calling someone stubborn as a mule is a compliment."

  The muleteers snickered.

  "Anyhow, this part is to resupply the double patrol that's almost caught up with us. We got a two day head start on them, being slower. They'll
take half with them, and pick up the other half as they swing back."

  "Right." Allcott pointed. "Stick all tat over tere. Tat's t'usual corner."

  The watch whistled, and pointed south. "Dust. Someone's in a hurry!"

  Xen stepped up to the wall and looked south, then west. "Last time we spotted them, that patrol wasn't but a mile behind us. If someone's making trouble, they're going to regret their timing."

  Allcott shook his head. "Tat wagon track s'got a few bends b'for they'll be in sight. But a'soon as they spot us, they'll b'off."

  Garit grinned. "But if they didn't see us until they were past us . . . " He frowned at the string of mules. "We can't hide them . . . Xen, can you take then down to the road, look like you're just passing through?"

  The muleteers were grinning, and moving already.

  "You mean, we get to play too?" Xen heaved the last supplies off and started chivvying the beasts down.

  Allcott scowled. "It s'not play, boy!"

  Xen nodded. "No. But it is an opportunity."

  ***

  The sergeant eyed the dust cloud and nodded in satisfaction. "Time enough to put some men in the rocks, down there. Closer to the track and south, where you might catch more of them when they turn and run." He pinned Garit with a glare. "Do not leave the rocks. If they want to fight, make them dismount and come to you."

  Garit grinned. Apparently this was SOP. A squad was already humping two barrels of arrows down a steep track. Garit scrambled down to help, and they went to ground behind large boulders as two wagons charged into sight. The heavy harness horses were obviously flagging, the bandits closing up. There were men with crossbows in both wagons, but from the way they were waiting, they must be low on bolts. A couple dozen bandits. Their wiry, tough looking little horses were keeping up easily. Garit held his hand up, and let it drop as the last bandit galloped past.

  Arrows flew. Two men fell off their horses. Screams and curses.